


To the East

by hillbillied



Category: Band of Brothers
Genre: Alternate Universe - Fantasy, Gen, Knights - Freeform, Magic-Users, Quests, Will eventually include pairings like winnix etc.
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2015-08-15
Updated: 2015-08-26
Packaged: 2018-04-14 22:13:51
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 3
Words: 4,355
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/4582065
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/hillbillied/pseuds/hillbillied
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p><i>The Order of Sentinels</i>; A prestigious body of noble men and reigning knights, one that hoped to bring tranquility and perfect law to all peoples.</p><p>Richard Winters worked hard to become one of these Sentinels, a knight of the most elite army. He had completed mission after mission, achieving the respect and admiration of many.</p><p>But with unrest in the land and evil growing in the East, the quest given to him now would take him farther than any other. It would take more than just him becoming a knight to complete; He would have to become a <i>hero</i>.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Prologue

**Author's Note:**

> A.K.A the Band of Brothers Fantasy AU that I [promised on tumblr](http://malarked.tumblr.com/tagged/that_one_au_with_the_dragoons) and have been putting off for the longest time.
> 
> So, at long last; Enjoy this bullshit AU about swords, magic, and dragons!

**_Richard Winters_** was born in the 18th year of the 5th age, just as Spring began to break over the Western lands. His parents lived in the town of _Dallahan_ , though his family moved more frequently than most. At eight years old, and with a younger sister in tow, his home changed to _Ephratus_ , and later to _Rancaster_. All of them towns of the West, with warm sunshine and large stretches of dry grass, punctuated only by the growths of stone that curled around the territory's various rivers.

No matter how many different buildings he called home, however, Richard's parents never strayed too far from _Armennon_ \- The largest city of the Westlands, its cliff-side capitol, and headquarters for the _Order of Sentinels_.

A prestigious body of noble men and reigning knights, one that hoped to bring tranquility and perfect law to all peoples, governed by a learned Council. Richard's parents were devout to this cause, firm believers in the good the Order could bring to the world.

Their son less so, choosing to stay in education at Rancaster's guilds rather than leave immediately for Armennon once he turned sixteen. The other boys called him _foolish_ , a _coward_ even, for giving up such an opportunity. Richard's father had been in the Order's infantry - His son would make a fine soldier.

Though he would never hold it against them personally, the youths who had teased him would soon come to regret it. For the education Richard gained working as a guild apprentice granted him knowledge unknown to ordinary foot soldiers. Hard work as it was, balancing his studies with long hours cutting tall grass, earning the money he needed to support both himself and his family - Richard came through in the end.

As he took his father's horse, saddled with his few possessions and a great many letters of recommendation from the guildmaster, he did not ride for Armennon to become a soldier. _No_ \- the farewells from his parents and sister were too joyous and excited for that.

Richard Winters was not going to be given a pike and sent to stand at the city wall on _guard duty_.

No, Richard Winters was going to become a _Sentinel of the Order_ , a _knight_ of the most elite army.

He was going to become a _hero_.

 

* * *

 

 

_**SUMMER, 42nd year of the 5th age.** _

Dust trailed in his wake, whipped up into a frenzy beneath his horse's hooves. Scraping against the dry earth, barely touching its surface before galloping forward, the beast strove forward at a brutal pace. As if the wrath of the seas and mountains combined were at the animal's back, tail thrashing as the rider spurred his mount on.

 _He could never get tired of this_. It was something he'd never admit; his love of the wind clawing at his hair, the feeling of powering forwards in the saddle, through the harshest of storms and heaviest of rain.

Some might say it was out of character, for such a normally stoic and _professional_ man to enjoy such an uncouth activity. But if they saw him like this, brow creased in focus and back bent low over his mount, they would be as unable to deny it as he was.

The sharp glint of sunshine on pale stone was his signal to slow down, straightening up in the saddle to begin his decent into a more casual trot. A soft pull on the reigns, accompanied by a quiet repeating of ' _whoa, whoa_ ', had the horse beneath him easily coming to a calmer walk. It gave both the beast and its rider the opportunity to catch their breaths, to draw the dry air into their lungs as they approached the city's gates.

As much as he wished to simply ride forever, never stopping and never slowing, it was a relief to be returning home.

 

 

The guards posted on the outer wall of the citadel almost dropped their bowls in the rush to lean over the ramparts, catching only the briefest flash of red hair before the approaching rider disappeared from view beneath them. The eldest of their company scrambled to collect his pike, calling over the stone fortress.

" _Hurry_ \- Send word to the Council!" The words were as rushed as they were excited, " _Sentinel Winters has returned!_ "

 

 

Though he had never really been shown _contempt_ by many of Armennon's people, Dick found he could never grow accustomed to the welcome he received upon returning to the city. Even after being away for such long periods, seemingly always sent to the _farthest_ and most _distant_ realms the world had to offer, he was always greeted with the same joyful and enthusiastic reception.

Even riding through the streets of the inner most walls, climbing the steep roads and paths towards the Council's chamber, he would still be met with salutations and cheers. Dick never had enough responses to so many shouts of ' _Welcome back, Sentinel Winters!_ ' and ' _Good to see you home, sir_!'. He hoped his (somewhat embarrassed) smile would suffice - and in truth, _it always did_.

The upwards ride led him to a swift dismount, swinging from the saddle of his horse expertly as he came to the highest balcony at the topmost part of the city. _The citadel_ ; a dome of white rock, _as was Armennon's way_. Encircled by high archways and a walkway around its edge, looking out over all of the great Westland's capital.

It was here that Winters dropped from his mount, the bulging luggage strapped to his saddle jostling with the movement. He had left with little (as was _his_ way) and returned with much; his most recent quest sending him all the way to _Vestraal_ and back. He had gone far enough North to glimpse _Orenon_ on the horizon, as if crossing the entirety of the _Raikes_ was not far enough.

He had only stopped when he reached the Eastern sea.

" _Sentinel_ Winters!"

The voice was a familiar one, and unfortunately accompanied by approaching footsteps. It was the only greeting the redhead had received today that wasn't _cheerful_ in nature.

Dick looked up from where he was attending to his horse. He met the man who came storming his way with a _calm_ expression, a neutral mask in contrast to the angered tone of the newcomer.

" _Sentinel Sobel_." Winters greeted with a curt nod, the dark haired man stopping just short of where he stood by his mount.

Whatever small-talk and pleasantries Dick had become accustomed to in life were skipped, any polite conversation instantly thrown to the wind.

"You're _late_." Sobel huffed, as if demmanding an explanation, "The council expected your return _two days ago_."

"Mmn." Winter managed to hum, his face still serene even as the apathetic response seemed to turn Sobel's face a whole shade redder, "My apologies. My undertaking in Vestraal took longer than expected."

This didn't seem to placate the darker haired man, who merely snorted and shook his head. As he expected no different.

" _Well_ , I'm sure the Council will enjoy reading your very _comprehensive_ and extensively _detailed_ report on the matter." Sobel adjusted his belt, looking Winter over briefly, "But that will have to wait. Make yourself presentable; the Council requests your presence. _Now_."

With a flourish of his robes, the Sentinel turned, stalking back into the shadow of the inner chamber, leaving Dick alone in the sunlight.

A soft sigh escaped the redhead, his hand finding his horses's nose to pet the soft skin there. The beast nuzzled against his hand, as Winters took a final look out over the city and the surrounding landscape. The sun was raised high above, beating down upon the dry hills and jagged rocks of the Westlands from a cloudless sky; a beautiful sight on such a pleasant day.

With a final pat to the horses neck, Dick let his hand fall away, coming to rest at his belt and the hilt of his sword. He gave the distant view a final parting look before turning away. His footsteps fell heavily against the stone floor as he followed the path Sobel had taken, disappearing into the cool shadow of the Council's chamber.

 

* * *

 

 


	2. Winters: The Hero

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Prologue continuation.

The Council was exactly as anyone could expect; seven elderly men in white robes, sat in a circle high above the chamber floor. A sheer wall of stone kept them safe where they looked down upon the two entering sentinels, eyeing them with cold anticipation.

Sobel cleared his throat, stepping away from the hall's center to make room for the man following behind. " _Sentinel Winters_." He introduced, ushering the redhead forward with a tight expression and hurried gesture of his hand.

Dick strode firmly into the great chamber, halting to stand fast at its middle, revolving slowly to look individually at each of the Council members. They met his unwavering stare with little more than apathy, a short pause of silence punctuating the gathering.

"You're _late_." One of the council stated.

Dick couldn't help the pursing of his lips, failing to keep the corners of his mouth twitching at the hint fo a smile. Apparently, his arrival _wasn't_ rejoiced by all.

"My apologies." The sentinel responded, filtering through his list of acceptable explanations to find the right words, "My undertaking in Vestraal-!"

"That it is none of our concern." A second Council member interrupted, addressing his colleague rather than Winters below, "Your duties in Vestraal are behind us. There are more pressing matters to attend to."

Stopped short in his justification, Dick let his mouth fall closed, weary gaze dropping back to the bleak stone wall surrounding him. The bland surface of pale rock was somehow still preferable to craning his neck upwards, to stare into the disapproving eyes of the old men encircling him.

Talk of more ' _pressing matters_ ' didn't even begin to phase him, having heard those words a dozen times before. Another strike of workers in _Havanport_ , most likely. Perhaps poachers causing trouble in _Luzerne_. Maybe even a threat of attack from Orenon, upon the Northern borders.

Or, as it had been in Vestraal, he was being sent on another _wild goose chase_ , just so the council could rid themselves of his shining good morals and constant questions of their orders.

In truth, Vestraal had been a wonderful place; a welcome break overlooking the sea, since Dick was just as happy to be rid of the Council's ever-watchful eyes as they were to be rid of him. He had seen some extraordinary sights there, being in the _City of the Priesthood_ after all. The cathedrals alone were awe-inspiring at the very least, and the people were humble and always pleasant.

Winters much preferred it to Armennon's cold stone towers.

"You would do well to pay attention, Sentinel Winters." A voice broke through his train of thought, "What we ask of you will not be some _amicable ride_ across the Raikes."

To his left, Dick was aware of Sobel straightening his back, both of their interests unexpectedly peaked by the Council's words. Their tone concealed no exaggeration; it was far too somber for that. As if they truly were remorseful of the information they were passing on, like this really _was_ as grave a matter as they implied.

"There is unrest across the land, Sentinel." The elder continued, leaning forward in his seat to capture the room's full attention, "And we fear it may mark the end of the Westlands, and _the Order_."

The statement hung heavily in the chamber, all hints of humor suddenly drawn from the air. Winters raised his head, eyeing the Council member with a grim concentration.

"Disturbances reach our ears from across the West." The elder admitted severely, "Our rangers cannot control the commoners running amuck. _Phillabound_ challenges our rule as rightful charge of their land, and _all the while_ we still fear an attack from the North."

"There is rebellion from the Wastes. Mercenaries run rampant and the borders are in danger as an army amasses to overthrow our governing hand. I don't suppose you know where I speak of, do you, Sentinel?"

Dick could feel the room's gaze on him, in expectation and anxiety combined.

" _The Unknown East_."

The elder above him nodded, satisfied with the response.

" _Correct_ , Sentinel Winters." The old man threaded his fingers together across his stomach, "The Unknown East. Home to an enemy we know just as little about, but are _very_ _much_ aware of."

"The rebellion is stirring from there!" An impatient Council member piped up, palm slamming down on the edge of the stone wall, "Someone - or _something_ \- without a name or cause is questioning _our_ rule! It could be the end of the Westland's reign for good!"

"The reign we made by _invading_ the other continents?" Dick asked, unable to miss the sharp gasp that followed from Sobel.

"The reign that has brought _peace_ to this earth." The first elder barked, cutting through Winter's question with an iron strength and speed, "A rule _rightfully_ the Orders."

The following pause was a short one, but it could be felt on all their shoulders. Pushing down like a great weight, suffocating the old men who stared pointedly down at their sentinels, one of which gazed back with _unrelenting_ eyes.

"...My apologies, sir." Dick finally resigned, adjusting his stance in the center of the domed chamber, "What would you have me do?"

It brought the discussion full circle, back to the point of business where all talk of politics could be excluded.

"You will assemble a party." The Council finally revealed, apparently content to let the redhead's earlier outburst go unpunished, "Seven men, at least. _Of your choice_ \- but each one _learned_ and _devout_ to the cause. Whether you take further soldiers for guard, it is up to you. But _be warned_ ; you will unlikely return as the same number you depart as."

The hand resting at his belt brushed his sword hilt, Dick finding comfort in knowing the weapon remained there. Talk of casualties always failed to sit comfortably with him, unlike so many other members of the Order.

" _You will go East._ " The Council instructed, "Any trouble you encounter on your way is not your priority, though you may stop to see that it is _dealt with,_ if possible."

"Your destination is the farthest you have ever been, Sentinel Winters." Another elder continued, leaning over the balcony above to drive home his point, "This is a quest of the _utmost importance_ , and you cannot fail."

"Not that we expect you to." A third man added, his clean robes raising and falling as he shrugged, "As the most _skilled_ of our Sentinels, we could not think of a better charge."

"But tread _carefully_." The first of the Council took over, "The foe you are being sent to slay in the East is a powerful one. Enough that it threatens even an order such as _ours_. You must destroy it, whatever the cost."

The seven elders looked to each other in agreement, sharing brief nods and quiet mutterings before turning back downwards to their audience.

"Is your undertaking _clear_ , Sentinel?"

Dick found himself letting out a breath he was unaware he had been holding. The grip on his sword hilt was rigid, clutching the polished metal with a resolve that shone through in his voice.

"Yes, sir." Boots pressing together as his hand curled into a fist, Winters saluted the men above, fingers over his heart. "I will not fail."

" _Good_." He received little more than a nod in return, "Assemble your men. You will ride East in two days. We will send one of our mages to accompany you, if you have no preference of your own."

And with that, Dick was waved carelessly away, dismissed from the Council's sight as he bowed and turned to leave. His strides were focused as he departed the chamber, leaving behind the cool shadow of the hall for a fresh burst of bright sunshine. The sky was beginning to turn its first shade of pink, the afternoon changing to evening as the sun began its decent behind the horizon.

Dick did not stop to admire it this time, walking purposely onward through the city of stone.

Because he had a duty to complete. He would follow the Council's orders, and ride East to slay their foe.

He was their most skilled Sentinel, _after all_.

 

* * *

 

 

  


 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> And there we have it; the plot's all set to go! Plus you get a helpful little map - courtesy of Winter's quest inventory - to help you keep track of where the fuck I'm talking about in this story!
> 
> In the next part; the story of Mage _Eugene Roe_ !


	3. Roe: The Mage

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> The quest begins, and Winters is not the only one leaving Armennon for the journey.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Wow, this is late as piss. Also; I messed around with the format of this fic. Decided I didn't want it in individual one-shot segments like my other series.
> 
> But hey-ho, here we go!

_**Eugene Roe**_ was born in the 22nd year of the fifth age, and raised in the _Southlands_ , in a village named _Plaquemine_. Grandson of the village healer, Eugene grew up just west of _Louinasa_ , home to the finest school of practical magic ever known.

It was not his dream to attend there, but rather a request from his grandmother. She told him he had a _gift_ , a touch of great warmth and light, perhaps one even stronger than her own. Her only request was that he didn't let it go to waste.

At the young age of eighteen, he bid farewell to his home and headed on foot to Louinasa.

It was not the journey he expected, nor a destination he truly understood. Yet, it seemed, his grandmother had been correct about his gift. He excelled in his classes, erasing any doubts of his potential as a wielder of magic.

Under his teacher's guidance and with the support of his peers, Eugene made an apprentice of himself, dedicating his time to perfecting all the skill he could. A library worth of books and two years of helping children with scraped knees later, and he was finally ready.

In the Spring of the fifth age's 41st year, Eugene was given his robes and title of _Mage_ , under the Westland's decree and with Louinasa's blessing. _He was ready for his assignment_.

Though he had hoped for nothing in particular, the destination of his work was much farther away than he had anticipated. The Order of Sentinels had let loose their call - the need for mages amongst their soldiers was high, and the best the Southlands could offer must be sent.

Eugene left Louinasa soon after, saddle stacked to the brim and an untouched dagger at his side. He was ordered to make Armennon in thirty days.

He could have made it in less, had it not been for the short stop he took to Plaguemine. His grandmother held him close before he left, and reminded him to be strong.

Eugene knew he would be, with magic at his side.

 

* * *

 

Eugene remembered arriving in Armennon. The great city of stone and council, the grandest, _tallest_ , most magnificent structure in the West. When asked if he agreed with this description - " _And what does the South boy think of our incredible city?_ " - he would nod politely, respond in turn. Agree that _yes_ , it was a truly impressive sight.

Truthfully, in more private company, Roe would admit that Armennon wasn't anything particularly special to him. He had passed villages, towns, and cities alike on his journey there. All of them had their points of interest, some more so than the lifeless stone of the capital.

It had been a long time before he had found anyone to agree with him.

Until a redheaded Sentinel had limped into this workroom, eyes apologetic and a regretful smile on his face.

That was how Eugene met _Richard Winters_.

Removing the pieces of arrowhead from the man's shin had been a simple task. Tweezers in hand, chatting away to the knight propped up on his workbench. They had had quite the pleasant conversation, as Eugene stitched up the wound, with his patient showing a surprising interest in his life back home in the South.

He remembered Winters peering at the wound curiously once it had been sewn up, as if expecting something more.

The mage had smiled knowingly to himself when he knew he was being paid no attention. Magic was a curious thing, and from what he could guess; this Sentinel had never seen it.

A swipe of his hand, a lowly muttered spell, and Eugene ran his hand along his patient's leg with a flick of his wrist.

Golden mist, sparking and swirling from the wound, mesmerised the Sentinel and he saw his skin hiss and fade back to its usual colour. Even beneath the dirt and line of thread, he was allowed to watch in awe as the redness and ripped flesh messed together like a invisible hand commanded it, specs of blood evaporating under the magic's influence.

Eugene simply busied himself cleaning away his tools. He had expected the man to leave without thanks or acknowledgement after that, as many of these _noble_ _folk_ did.

He did not expect the man to stand, hand on his sword, and address the mage directly.

"That was incredible."

A pause found Roe's hands, and he turned to face his patient carefully.

_Incredible_. That was the word they used to glorify cities, to describe Armennon's highest citadel. It was reserved for the magnificent, _the huge_ , things that could barely be explained in the common tongue.

Not simple _mages_ like _Eugene_.

"You're too kind." Roe's words were slow, not knowing how to respond to such a compliment, "But I think it is misplaced, Sentinel. There is nothin' incredible about me."

He would forever remember Winter's smile then, how he dipped his head in a respectful bow. How his eyes shone with a wonder Eugene had not seen for many years.

"My mistake." The Sentinel laughed as he straightened up, "Thank you, all the same."

 

 

Years later, when he received call from the council that he was to accompany a party to the East, the mage couldn't find it in himself to be unhappy about it.

A leather bag, several sacks of supplies; Roe collected them together with haste as he prepared to leave. He packed his things proficiently, _expertly_ , as if he had ever been on more than _one_ long-haul trip in his life.

The journey here had been the longest, and it had also been the _last_.

"You're comin' back, right?" Spina asked, perched upon the room's workbench.

The older mage huffed out what might have been a laugh, continuing to fold his possessions into transportable bundles. The question went ignored bar his chuckle, as Eugene shouldered his staff with one swift gesture. His finger gripped the mottled branch tightly, chimes rattling from its end, his bedding and blankets wrapped neatly over the wood in a tidy roll.

A hand pressed against his arm, brushing against his robes. He turned his gaze to find Spina, looking uncharacteristically sombre.

" _I'm serious_ , 'Gene." His friend insisted, looking him over, bags and all, "The East isn't just some _desert town_. It's a _Hellscape_."

Comforting fingers found their way to Ralph's shoulder in turn, squeezing the younger mage in reassurance. The man would be replacing him for the time being, Eugene thought; he needed the encouragement. To know for sure that his fellow would return.

" _Yes_ , Spina." Roe breathed slowly, "I'll come back."

That received a small smile and a frustrated chuckle as Spina shrugged him off.

"Still callin' everyone by their family name, even _now_."

Eugene frowned, shaking his head and taking the change of topic as his permission to leave. Collecting up the last of his belongings he headed for the heavy chamber door. Balancing everything in his hands and across his back was a struggle, but with Ralph's help he made it through the entrance unscathed.

He called his thanks over his shoulder as he descended the curling staircase, out into the cold stone passageways of the Citadel.

Bright sunlight lit his skin, warming the dull fabric of his robes. Adjusting a slowly falling bag, Eugene made for Armennon's first gate, where he had been tasked to meet his ride.

Though he couldn't say he would _miss_ the city, his boots gliding over the stone pathways with ease, Roe felt a mild discomfort on leaving. It would be a long trip, perhaps one he might not see through to the end. Yet, _still_ , he had to force down the excitement bubbling in his veins. Though he appeared the epitome of calm on his surface, rounding the final bend in the road into the open courtyard, the mage knew the _exhilaration_ he felt deep inside.

He was greeted by a pair of saddled horses, one brown, one grey. _Fitting_ , he remarked to himself, as he began loading his bags onto the darker mount. It almost matched their hair colours, the sunlight giving the other steed an almost _orange_ tone to its mane.

The sound of boots approaching could not phase the mage, his hand moving slowly over his horse's nose as he shushed it quietly. In the edge of his vision, Eugene watched Winters appear, checking his supplies were all in place on his mount.

"Are you ready?" The redhead asked, adjusting the reigns in his hands as he spoke.

Eugene's brow creased in thought.

"The Council would not have chosen me if I wasn't." He answered earnestly, before he looked to the Sentinel beside him. A smile threatened to grow across his face, though he kept it well hidden beneath his frown, "Though, I can't help but think _someone_ might've recommended me."

The grin Eugene caught coming from Winters, before the man hastily turned away, was enough of an answer to his query.

They mounted their horses together, in time with the shouts of the guards to open the gates into the lower levels.

Feet in the stirrups, fingers gripped tightly on the reigns, Eugene felt that unfamiliar excitement coming to a boil under his skin. Whether anxiety or _fear_ , or maybe just hope to finally receive a _break_ from this smothering city, he could not say.

All he knew is he was almost smiling as he spurred his horse onward, chasing after Winters as the man rode at speed from the courtyard. Down into the city, through archways and rows of houses alike. Further, _further_. Until they were out of the white stone and into the dry landscape of the surrounding West.

Bouncing in his saddle, following the speeding Sentinel across the plains; Eugene could think of few places he's rather be.

 

* * *

 

 

  


**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Though I don't think I'm really that great at writing Gene, just yet, I know I'm getting better. So, yeah, hope you enjoyed, as always!
> 
> Next up: Harry Welsh!


End file.
